


come as you are

by irritable



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, mostly fluff? kind of? i think its fluffy, so i wrote smth w a plot for once even if it is a little nonsensical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22319260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irritable/pseuds/irritable
Summary: “You’re late.”
Relationships: Chloe Frazer/Nadine Ross
Comments: 6
Kudos: 132





	come as you are

**Author's Note:**

> posted on tumblr originally. anon prompt abt chloe being late. im @chlodines
> 
> title: come as u are by nirvana, yes im going thru a lil alternative phase rn.. a lil grunge.. they call me ms edgelord

Nadine considers herself to be a good judge of character and, within about 3 minutes of knowing Chloe, she already knows Chloe’s trouble.

“You’re late, Frazer.”

“Nice to see you, too!”

She better not make it a habit.

* * *

She does. 

“You’re—”

“Yes, yes, I’m late,” Chloe says, bulldozing through a crowd with her 4-wheel suitcase and forcing Nadine to whirl hastily around to catch up. “Let’s go!”

Rolling her eyes, Nadine follows suit towards the check-in desk where they weigh their suitcases. Of course, Chloe’s bag is precisely a single gram below the limit; she’s very smug about it, humming in satisfaction as the attendant sticks the tag on. Nadine has a suitcase and a duffel bag, both of which are at reasonable weights and decidedly under the limit. 

Nadine checks her watch. They have 45 minutes to get through security and to their gate, very conveniently located on the other side of the airport. Chloe just grins at Nadine’s apparent annoyance.

“Race you there?”

Nadine sighs, passport in hand. “I won’t ask them to wait if you’re late for boarding.”

Chloe just grins wider, says, “I’m touched,” and yanks her towards security. 

* * *

The necklace, an ugly thing, is almost within her grasp. She cautiously tries the floor… nothing happens. So, she takes one step, two, and reaches out and— 

_Click._ Gun, safety disabled. 

“Ah, ah,” comes a deep voice, too pleased, too familiar. “I wouldn’t.”

Nadine tilts her head and lets out a long-suffering sigh. Just her luck. “Shame, you aren’t dead.”

Rafe laughs like the movie villain that he is. “You never were good at finishing the job.”

“No,” Nadine says, shrugging, “I suppose not.”

“Well, then, what’s another failure to add to the list?” He moves, rotates to her 3, and she sees him. A small, petty part of her enjoys the fact that he had not, at least, escaped the ship unscathed. There is scar tissue. A lot of it. “Funny, how the tables have turned.”

Nadine narrows her eyes. “Remember how I let you live?”

Rafe’s eye twitches. Again, a part of her relishes in the fact that he looks, on the outside, as unhinged as he is on the inside. “You left me to die.”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.”

“This is going to feel so good,” he sneers.

Sarcastically, knowing he would hate to lose an argument, she says, “Would it help to know that I’m a changed woman?”

He flushes a deep shade of red, his lips twisting into a scowl. 

And, then,  _ BANG! _

Blood spatters across her face and arm. Ah, there’s the change to her woman.

“I wish you wouldn’t provoke a man pointing a gun to your head,” Chloe huffs, stomping in just as Nadine mutters, “ _ excellent timing as always _ .”

“You’re late,” she says, grimacing and wiping delicately at herself with the hem of her shirt.

Chloe snorts and yanks the necklace off the pedestal. “Some things never change.”

“I think some things do,” Nadine says, lightly, and ignores Chloe's knowing look. 

* * *

“Really?”

Nadine doesn’t turn around from the ocean, laid out before her. Waits. 

Chloe approaches until Nadine can see her from the corner of her eye. She lifts her phone up, opens her texts, and reads: “ _ You're late _ .”

“Was I wrong?”

Pocketing her phone with a huff, Chloe leans an arm against the railing and regards Nadine’s profile. After a moment, Nadine turns her head, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “…No, you weren’t.”

Nadine sighs, putting on a false air of indignation. “When am I ever?”

“Oi, no one ever means to the exact second when they say  _ meet in 5 minutes _ . It just isn’t done. It’s a suggestion. An estimate.” Chloe sniffs and lifts up the arm behind her back, revealing a bottle of wine. “And, anyway, it was worth it.”

“I’m sure,” Nadine drawls.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

Chloe huffs again, but her eyes light up with mirth. “If you’re holding me to throwaway lines I’ve said, I’m holding you to yours.”

Nadine lifts an eyebrow. “And what exactly have I said to you that I have not followed through on?”

Chloe takes her phone out again. “Okay, here. You said, and I quote:  _ just steal something and get me out of here, I’ll kiss you and have your firstborn _ .” 

Back into her pocket, the phone goes. Then, pleased as can be, Chloe shakes the bottle as if Nadine had somehow forgotten it was there. “I don’t care too much for children, but I stole something, and here you are, outside, and, well, I’m waiting. I don't usually wait around, Ross. I hope you know.”

“Retributive justice,” Nadine says, smoothly, unashamed, and grabs Chloe by the front of her shirt and yanks her down. 

* * *

On her ascent, 2 men go screaming over the edge above her. When she finally hauls herself over, Nadine’s got a boot upon a rock, retying her laces. Behind her, a man lies prone. She has barely broken a sweat. 

“You’re late.”

“…you’re attractive.”

Nadine stops, looks up at Chloe through her lashes as Chloe makes a beeline for her. “Okay, I forgive you,” she says into Chloe’s mouth.

* * *

They’re on the pier again, dressed down this time. It had been an accident, really. They were just taking a walk, winding down from their last job, and had found themselves here. 

“I’m late.”

Nadine rolls her eyes and accepts the cotton candy Chloe passes over. “What’s new?”

Chloe hums, steps between her legs, and puts a hand on Nadine’s cheek, the other behind her neck. She kisses Nadine, ardently, into the railing. 

“You tell me,” she says once she’s satisfied and pulls away. 

Nadine laughs, eyes crinkled around the edges. “Never pegged you as a romantic.”

“I love to defy expectations.” When Nadine prods her in the stomach, she just smiles, obliging. “It would’ve been more romantic if I brought you here—our sweet, little spot—in, like, 4 months. A whole year since you first threw yourself at me.”

“You coerced me.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so easily convinced.”

Nadine squints, organises her face into as much of a pout as Nadine Ross could physically get it into. “Name one other occasion.”

“No, I’ll do you one better,” Chloe says, cockily. “Watch this: meet me here in 4 months, 8 PM.” She leans in as Nadine opens her mouth to reply which is the perfect opportunity to lay one very salacious, very public kiss on her. It takes all her willpower to slant her forehead against Nadine’s and pull away. When she does, she grins. “See you there.”

“Don’t be late—” Chloe laughs, and Nadine feels a little bit like a dope. “ _ Eish _ , this doesn’t prove anything.”

* * *

The jeep comes crashing through the foliage, horn blaring, guns blazing. Chloe jumps out, practically hurls her whole body in Nadine’s direction, and grabs her arm— 

Only, Nadine jerks away and shoots the last remaining merc in the head. 

“Look, Nadine, it’s not what you think. I had a plan. I  _ have _ a plan.” She tries again, reaching out. Nadine pulls her arm to her chest and glares. “Really, it’s not—”

“What?” Nadine bites out. “It’s not  _ what _ ?”

Chloe’s about to respond, but Nadine’s really had enough of Chloe’s excuses. 

“What is it, then? Enlighten me.” She bunches her fists up but does not move them, not voluntarily. The shaking, she cannot help. “What plan could possibly involve making a deal with  _ Shoreline _ ? And without telling me shit?”

“I was going to—”

“Oh,  _ fok off _ .” Nadine breathes out roughly, lifts her fist, the butt of her gun, to her temple and tries to rub away the headache. “Nothing's changed, has it? God, you should’ve known. You _ know _ .”

“Nadine—”

“I said,” she says, quietly, turning away, “ _ fuck. off _ .”

“Please. Just— _Please_ —”

“It’s always the same with you. Too little, too late.” She’s hopping onto her motorbike, revving the engine, before Chloe can come up with a response. 

And then she’s gone.

* * *

Nadine doesn’t know why she’s here. She wasn’t going to come even before the Shoreline mess but, back then, she was just planning to mess with Chloe. She was going to make up for it, too, and now, well. She doesn’t know. 

She  _ doesn’t know _ . 

The details, she does know. She has friends still associated with Shoreline, and she'd sent them a terse mass email after she had gotten spectacularly drunk, thanks to a different friend. Her Shoreline friends told her everything. 

They had threatened Chloe. Her mother. Her friends. Her—Nadine looks up at the sky and exhales—her girlfriend. Ja, there are so many things she could have done better, but Nadine can understand, sort of. Nadine can sympathise. Most of all, Nadine just  _ hurts _ . 

Below her, the water rises and falls, pushes in and pulls away. She looks down into the dark, swirling depths. Catches, in her peripheries, the time: 8:32. She shakes her head, at herself, at this whole situation, and stands fully. She shifts, looking down the long end of the pier, reaching out for the dark ocean. It feels wrong to see it so empty, strangely uncomfortable.

With a sigh, she turns her back to leave. Then, she misses a step and almost stumbles. 

At the other end, leaning against a pillar, Chloe watches her. 

Approaching, Nadine gathers her wits and puts on a poker face. When she’s close enough, Chloe pushes off the pillar and takes a few uncertain steps closer. They stop a good meter apart, silent for a few moments. 

“How long have you been here?” Nadine finally asks. So unimportant, but it was her first thought. 

Chloe smiles, fond, wry, sad. “Yes, I was late. I, um.”

This time, Nadine waits for Chloe to explain.

“I was sitting in my car. Since quarter past 7.” Embarrassed, she glances over her shoulder and points over to the carpark. Looks back. 

“Ah,” is all Nadine says. 

“I’m sorry,” Chloe blurts suddenly. “I’m  _ sorry _ .” 

She takes another step closer but doesn’t try to touch Nadine. It makes Nadine feel worse about the whole thing, but can't really explain it. As if something has gone terribly wrong with the universe and she can only feel the effects, too far removed from the root cause.

“I knew it would hurt you. But I did it anyway and I… I am so sorry. I—” She seems to be at a loss for words, rubbing at her neck.

“What do you want?” Nadine asks, not harshly, just prompting. 

“I’m not asking for anything, for forgiveness. I just want to make it right.”

“That’s what you want?”

Chloe smiles again, rueful, shoulders slackening. “You know what I want.”

Nadine  _ does _ know. She’s just not ready. At least, she doesn’t think she is. 

After a long time, she opens her arms, and the universe restores itself. It feels like everything from the past few months washes off her, disappearing with the tide, when Chloe collapses into her. “Will you wait?”

Chloe tucks her face into Nadine’s shoulder, lets out a shuddering breath. “Always.”

* * *

It takes time—over half a year—for them to get back to the way it was. Well, not really. They've changed, individually and together, and are better for it. 

Nadine doesn’t think herself arrogant, but she  _ will _ take credit where it is due. In this case, it is Chloe’s new policy of showing up on time. (Of course, she hasn’t done a total 180°. She still refuses to believe Nadine when she tells Chloe that 10 minutes early is on time and on time is late.)

She also thinks, knows, she is quite forgiving. Chloe’s late, but only by a few minutes. The long hand on Nadine's watch ticks on, but Nadine is patient.

Then, classic Chloe, she comes charging in and, instantly, scoops Nadine’s hand into her own, pressing a kiss to her cheek. There's a frenzied energy about her, but it's familiar, and Nadine feels more at ease with her here than without. “Sorry for the wait.”

Nadine shrugs. “It’s alright.”

Chloe laughs. “Of course it is, you don’t even want to be here.”

“So you did it for me.”

“Well, yes, in a way; I was texting Nate to tell Sam to keep his trap shut about Shoreline. He knows, of course, but it's better to be safe.” Nadine’s face darkens, but Chloe starts to pull her towards the Fisher-Drake house and continues on: “Anyway, this shouldn't be long and, also, I think we should move in together.”

Nadine stumbles. "Hang on—"

* * *

Nadine, 37 and drunk, adjusts her ill-fitting tuxedo and hums an old favourite. The man taps his foot, checks the clock on the wall. 

“Um,” he starts. 

Nadine smiles, blandly. “She’ll come.”

“Are you sure—”

“Ja.”

Vindication comes but 2 seconds later. The doors sweep open with a bang and in comes Chloe, stumbling over a plastic chair. 

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here,” she says in a rush, yanking her dress from where it's caught on the arm of a chair and, when she’s free, turning to flash a megawatt at Nadine. “Hello.”

“Hi,” says Nadine, lightheaded. Before Chloe can apologise for her tardiness, as she does now, Nadine beckons her over, impatient. “Yes, yes, you are late and forgiven.”

“I went to buy you flowers,” she points out as if she isn’t hugging a massive bouquet to her chest. “Really expensive.”

Nadine, graciously, accepts it and, in quick succession, dumps it into the officiator’s arms. 

It takes them another hour to get married. 

* * *

It’s been almost 5 decades. 

She sits on a bench next to a weeping stranger, leans closer onto her cane to pat the person’s back. 

“Who is it?” Nadine asks after handing over a packet of tissues.

“My father,” murmurs the stranger, then sniffles. 

Nadine nods. “Did he make you happy?”

“No. Sometimes.” They look down at their feet, eyes red-rimmed and fists clenched around the fabric of their dress. “But I don’t know why I’m sad.”

“You feel what you feel,” Nadine says, sagely. The stranger gives her a wobbly smile and introduces themself. 

After they get their breathing in control, they gesture vaguely and ask, “What about you?” 

Nadine smiles. “Just thinking about her makes me happy.”

“Who is ‘her’?” they ask, frank in the way only children and teenagers can pull off without seeming rude. 

Nadine doesn’t say anything for a moment, looking out at the grass, at the blue skies, at Chloe’s name. Then, she looks back and laughs, so very warmly, and says, “My late wife.”

**Author's Note:**

> so uhhhhhh yeah, i kno there isnt many of us chlodine stans left but i still think i shud celebrate this fic bc this is my 6th chlodine fic, so uncharted has officially come to a tie for the coveted position of "fandom i hv written the most for"
> 
> i dont rly kno what this is and i kno the ending is unnecessary but i wanted to make that joke so i did LMAO, anyway pls comment i love u all, bye


End file.
